It seems that lately, almost all of my dreams are nightmares. The odd thing about these nightmares is that they don’t affect me when I wake. Prior to pregnancy, if I had a nightmare, I’d wake up in either a weird dissociative state or would be irrationally angry at whoever wronged me in the dream (sorry, The Daddy). Now? It’s like, “WOW! That was fucked up! Thanks for working that out, brain!” and then I go on my merry way. I imagine this has something to do with working out pregnancy/life-change anxiety. Whatever it is, I’ll take it.

Three recent dreams: Ok I was going to do 3 but considering the first is a three-parter, I’m doing one. ONE DREAM. I’ll do my messed up Ursa cave dream in another post.

The triple-threat WTF dream!

Part one: Deep Sea Balloon Chicken.

For reasons beyond my understanding, me and my friend Lara were in a battle with a gang of rogue make-up artists who were trying to kill us. Our childhood best friend, Kelly, was the leader of their pack (that’s totally messed up, Kelly). This battle took place miles out over the ocean, and we rode on balloons! Pro tip: balloons are not the best mode of transportation during battle.

Anyway. These crazy make-up artist bitches (sorry, Kelly) were ganging up on our sad little team of two, spraying make-up and perfume in our eyes and trying to stab our balloons with their make-up brushes. We fought long and hard and managed to send several of them plummeting into the water below. For some reason, these were mostly ladies from the MAC counter. The Clarins counter girls fought dirty and nearly had us both down. The last thing I remember was me and Lara retreating to our safe boat to add more balloons and tend to our wounds. As comical as this dream was, it was terrifying. Then we fade out to…

Part two: Bad Bridesmaid

This one was short. Kelly decided she wasn’t happy with her wedding that happened in real-life last Spring. She wanted a do-over, and we all happily obliged. We had a wedding procession that traveled from the reception site to the ceremony site on foot, a mile away. A half-mile in, I decided that I NEEDED wedding cake so I ditched the procession and hauled ass back to the reception hall. I pretended that the bride had sent me back for quality control purposes and I ate SO MANY PIECES OF CAKE. So many. I then ran back to the procession, hair falling down, dress disheveled, and cake all over my face. I didn’t arrive until after the ceremony had started Oops. As Kelly glared at me, we fade out to…

Part three: Rachel Maddow..?

Yeah. Rachel Maddow. Only in dreamland, I was Rachel Maddow. I was minding my business, walking home from the grocery store, when I came across a bridge that I had to cross. It was full of scary bad-ass dudes who were fighting in the middle of a ring of trashcan fires. I decided to cross by climbing over rocks that bordered each side of the bridge. I was about a third of the way over when a man popped up from between two rocks, held a knife to my face, and demanded my bags and all of my money.

I briefly considered my alternatives – retreating over the rocks would be too precarious and I’d end up hurt, killed by the crazy guy, or I’d fall down the cliff a couple of feet over from the rocks. Giving him my stuff wasn’t an option – in dreamland, Rachel Maddow is a badass and would not stand for that nonsense. The last option? Fight back! I (err, Rachel?) pretended to be reaching into my pocket for my wallet but instead, I quickly reached over and knocked the knife out of his hands. Then I grabbed the knife from between two rocks, stabbed the guy in the chest, and shoved him off of the cliff. Safe!

Now instead of having a normal-people reaction and calling the cops, fleeing, or sitting there in a traumatized puddle of blubbery tears, I magically summoned a film crew to film the guy as he plummeted to his death below. While filming the fall, I was LAUGHING and mocking the guy, saying “bye-bye!” and waving obnoxiously. What…? Dreamland Rachel Maddow/me is a crazy bitch, apparently.

Yeah. So. That’s pregnancy brain for you. More dreams coming up soon.

Last night, I had an extremely vivid dream about cooking and eating cheesy french fries dipped in sour cream. I woke up literally drooling, and not the sleepy kind of drool. It was “put a fucking potato in my mouth NOW” drool.

Tuesday night, I dreamed of mashed potatoes, melted cheddar, and crumbled bacon. Monday night, a POTATO BAR. They  had everything. Scalloped, mashed, baked, fries…

…I think the baby wants some potatoes.

I figure now’s as good a time as any to jot down strange pregnancy dreams so that I can cite them as reasons for insanity when my future offspring rolls his/her/its eyes at me and proclaims me crazy in the teenage years.

-Two days before I found out that I was pregnant, I dreamed that I was pregnant with twins and my partner insisted on naming them Balrok and No Name. He couldn’t understand why I’d ever refuse such lovely names, which lead to days of bickering and pouting on his part. I’m not looking forward to the real-life version of the dream conversation, as past name suggestions from him have included Zaphod and James Tiberius.

For those of you unfamiliar with Balrok and No Name, they’re hosts of a local late night horror show and they’re pretty fantastic.

-KITTENS! Yeah. I had a dream about kittens. Not JUST kittens though – they were cowboy kittens that lived on a kitten and iguana farm. Yes. A kitten and iguana farm. The iguanas? They had saddles. And the kittens rode them. How awesome is that?! Not as awesome: my creepy ex-boyfriend was a skeleton janitor on the kitten and iguana farm. There aren’t enough cowboy kittens in the world to make that ok.

-QUADS?! Seriously, pregnancy brain. First twins and now quads? You keep the multiples out of my uterus, k? You’re making me really nervous about my first ultrasound.